Fraud
by Sweets And Charades
Summary: Sherlock Holmes may be on the side of the angels… But he is a fake. Fobwatches change everything.
1. Fob Watch

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing.

**Author's Note: **Done as a request for ~RJL7983 on Deviantart who wanted: "A story of mostly how Sherlock finds his Fob Watch and realizes he is a timelord". I hope you enjoy :) (and review ;) )

(Anyone got an idea for a better title?)

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It's in his pocket.

An old fob watch hanging in a silver chain, clinging with all its might to the wooden fabric as if afraid of losing its owner.

The owner himself does not pay it much mind. He never looks at it – it is unnecessary – it is just a watch and it is a good weight there in his pocket keeping him grounded when his mind goes out of his head and is soaring somewhere in cosmos collecting facts and theories.

No, he doesn't need to look at it. His nimble fingers have run its edges sharp and have traced the delicate pattern countless times over the years. They know every curve, every line and they will never reveal this secret to another person, another human. This is _his_ and it will stay that way, hidden within the depths of his coat and giving him a sense of home, however mad that sounds to his own ears. _You can't have home in a clock._


	2. In the Lab

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own anything!

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It is afterwards – when Molly has helped him because he needed _her_ – that the old chain finally decides to give way and the fob watch clatters to the floor.  
For a moment he stands there, transfixed, eyes upon the watch.  
Except that he isn't really looking. Not at _it_. His eyes are darting over the chain, the broken link, the spot on the floor right _next_ to the watch and then Molly's fingers as she gingerly takes it up and runs her sleeve over it, wiping imagined dust away.  
"It is beautiful," she whispers and wraps his hands around it, her fingers still interlaced in the chain.  
When there is no reaction from him, she dares the question, "Does it open?", a slight awe to her voice. He abruptly looks at her, gazes into her wide eyes and the thought crosses his mind that her eyes should be blue. _Or perhaps it is that his should be brown?_  
He shakes it off and answers as if reciting a line: "It is broken. It is an old relic."  
"Oh," she says, a little disappointed, and withdraws from the fob watch, sending golden specks through the air as the chain slides through her fingers. "Well then, did you need me for anything... more?"  
"No. I don't think so." He dismisses her with a sigh. "Everything should be ready."  
She lingers for a moment before him, biting her lip, before turning to gather her things.  
As she turns, he closes his eyes and puts the watch on his forehead, enjoying the sensation of the cold metal.  
He can hear her shuffling about the lab, reluctant to leave the room - _him_ - but eventually she stops, pausing halfway between him and the door.  
"Do you... Do you want me to get that fixed for you?"  
"No. No, I'll do it myself."  
"Right. Yes. Of-of course." She laughs nervously before sobering up. "Are you sure? About... About it all?"  
He catches her worried gaze and sighs. "Yes. I am sure. There is no other way. Trust me."  
"O-okay. Just... take care, yeah?" She musters a little brave smile and for some reason he finds himself returning it – just a twitching of the lips but it is enough. Her own smile widens and she hurries towards the door. She is almost out of the room before he remembers himself.  
"Molly?"  
"Yes?" she gasps as she spins around, slightly out of breath.  
"Thank you."  
And this time it is her standing transfixed for a moment, one hand clamped around the door handle and the other one clutching the frame. "Just take care," she repeats and exits the room, a glister in her eyes.


	3. Transformation

**Disclaimer: **Surprise! I. Own. Nothing! What a surprise! Huh? Oh. Not. A surprise. Well, what are you reading this disclaimer for, then? On to the story!

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When the door closes, that is when the vibrations start.  
It starts as a gentle humming inside the watch which quickly rises in velocity into a desperate, deafening rhythm – _"Open me open me open me openme openme openme openmeopenmeopenme!_" the four beats command.  
Sherlock Holmes scrutinizes the contraption before his eyes, taking anew all the details in the design, every line, every indentation. Inside his palm, under his watchful eye and spilling out between his fingers golden tendrils whiff around the now quiet watch, painting kaleidoscope patterns in the air only to vaporise again.  
The tendrils reach out to him, like a child silently begging to be lifted up. But they cannot reach. They hover inches over the watch. Waiting. The beating has stopped but he still recalls the command.  
And with a snap the watch is open.  
It wastes no time. The tendrils rush to his face, cruel hands that they are. As they touch him, seep into his skin, every cell is being twisted, re-awakened and they _sting_, setting his nerves ablaze and bombarding his brain with knowledge and memories. A split-second, a sharp intake of breath and then he no longer has just one human heart. His Time Lord hearts are beating vigorously in his chest and he can feel the rotating of the planet beneath his feet yet again.  
A smirk works its way around his mouth and the fob watch is carelessly being flung from one hand to another, testing and rejoicing his Gallifreyan reflexes and abilities.  
He does not stop the slow chuckle emitting somewhere from the back of his throat. The Master is back.

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**Author's Note: **So, what did you think? Had anyone guessed his Time Lord identity? :) I left a few hints in the last chapter but I'm not sure if anyone else but me could see them. Hmm... Anyway, I have decided on the name "Not a Hero" for this story. When I post the next chapter, the name will be changed. (And a note on that: I'm not too sure when I'll get the time to write that because we're getting a ton of homework now on my final year of education, but don't worry - I have a plan for where this story is going!)


End file.
